


A Study Of The Great Reform Period by Betitia Arcanus (co-authored by Valentina Aemilius) of the Minrathous Circle

by Mozzarella



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Future Fic, M/M, Maevaris is Archon, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Qunari Culture and Customs, Tevinter Culture and Customs, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age), Tevinter is (gasp) a better place, Tevinters, Varric Writes Another Bestseller
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-07 05:17:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19202656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: In which two students of the Minrathous Circle do their homework by interviewing the esteemed Magister Pavus, who was instrumental in the great reforms Tevinter experienced under the rule of Archon Maevaris Tilani, The Radiant One - where they learn a lot more about history than they anticipated.Meanwhile, talks between the Qunari and the Imperium to end their occupation of Seheron are underway just as, on a seemingly unrelated note, famed author Varric Tethras' new book, "Passion and War", about a Tevinter Magister and a Qunari Warrior, falling in love, gains stunning popularity in Minrathous.





	1. Titia and Valentina

**Author's Note:**

> I should not have started writing this, but I did, so here we are. I sat for an hour writing this feverishly instead of taking a bath and going out to run errands. I'd have kept going but I need to do those errands ;P Will definitely update to get to the good bits soon though.

“And it was in 9:54 Dragon that Archon Radonis ceded power to the current power, Archon Maevaris, The Radiant One, who in ten short years abolished slavery in the Imperium and quashed the Venatori threat that sought to destroy everything proud Tevinter had built, to drive it to ruin.”

“Ha! Trite propaganda. It’s widely known that Archon Maevaris forced her way into power with help from southern allies. That she should betray our Chantry in such a way, rubbing elbows with religious leaders from the false Chantry of those wretched Andrastian barbarians—”

Titia sighed, shaking her head at Valentina, who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else but in the library where Titia finished her research. She wanted her presentation in front of the Circle Instructors to be impressive and insightful, passionate as she was about the topic at hand—the Archon’s rise to power and the social changes that she brought upon the Imperium.

“So you’re parroting propaganda to protest my propaganda, ‘tina?” Titia questioned, and Valentina sighed dramatically, bringing her legs down where they’d been rudely perched on the back of a chair. The disgusted look on the librarian’s face as he glared at them from across the way eased only slightly.

“I don’t know what circumstances led to Archon Radonis naming Maevaris his heir, but he seems to be enjoying his twilight years in comfort, and it’s said he and Maevaris are still in regular contact. They are, at least, not outright hostile.”

“Oh darling, your naïveté really is part of your charm,” Valentina said, giving Titia a kiss on the cheek, just to the side of her lips. Titia blushed, but wouldn’t let her love win the argument with distraction.

Again.

“Well if you’re so convinced that written sources aren’t reliable, perhaps we should approach people who were there,” said Titia. Her eyes lit up like sudden fires, and Valentina looked vaguely disturbed.

“Oh Titia. Amata, please, don’t—”

 It was too late. Whenever Betitia Arcanus got a wild idea in her head, it was impossible to stop her from going through with it. Valentina cursed under her breath, wishing not for the first time that she hadn’t chosen someone so… volatile, and ridiculous, and wildly intelligent, and completely guileless, as her beloved.

It had seemed such a good idea at the time—latching herself to a Circle outcast who had very few social skills for someone who’d been raised under a noble house (though her being the fifth child in succession might have had something to do with the lack of responsibility she seemed to have been given), but had a wellspring of magical talent and knowledge to make up for it.

Valentina had had charm and wit and grace and charisma, but her magical talent was… passable, and her lack of knowledge or an attention span had long been the bane of her tutors. She got bored so easily, and if she couldn’t wrap people around her little finger as easily as she could apply color to her cheeks, then she likely wouldn’t have been looked on as well as she was.

It helped that Betitia was always there to smooth out the parts of her magical knowledge that were lacking—of which there were many.

It was not part of the plan to… fall into affection. Perhaps it was too much exposure to the poor, awkward young woman who spent more time reading books than looking up at people, but Valentina found her floundering terribly cute, and kissed her one day under an olive tree on one of the rare occasions she’d been able to pull the girl out of the great libraries of Minrathous.

Valentina was the second child of her own household, and though her sister was where most of the family’s responsibilities lay, she was no stranger to expectation. And yet, when Titia kissed her back with enthusiasm and little grace, she couldn’t have cared less.

 

* * *

 

 

That did not, of course, make her immune to grumbling as Titia dragged her across the capital city to see an old Magister. It wasn’t that Valentina disliked their Radiant Archon. She was very, very young when slavery had been abolished, and could only remember how angry her parents were that they’d been forced to free their own slaves, but that a good handful didn’t even leave, comfortable in their station and unwilling to change their situation themselves, though they certainly didn’t complain when they were paid wages.

Valentina was five when slave Nenya became nanny Nenya, and the only difference was that she no longer seemed afraid when she scolded her, like some looming threat had been dispelled. Young Valentina had no care for it—her entire world was centered on the fact that her nanny was allowed to punish her, and it was a change she did not accept with grace.

Now that she was older, near into her twenties and her nanny still on as a faithful servant, she thought, when she had time to consider, that she wouldn’t have liked the Nenya that cowered and cowed. They so often exchanged jibes and barbs that, while not kindly, were laced with years of understanding, of bonds of circumstance, and trust of equity in station. If Valentina had nobody to spar with in such a way at home, it would have made her into someone she suspected she, as she was today, wouldn’t have liked.

Someone who’d never have fallen for an awkward, bookish mage girl, or perhaps had used her more selfishly for her own gain.

This other Valentina certainly wouldn’t have allowed herself to be brought to the door of a large, yet somehow simple-seeming domus, not so decadent and ornate as other noble homes she had seen in the capital, and yet its design seemed so much more… stately in comparison, with simple, high white walls and a gate just big enough for people to see the beautiful, lush gardens inside, flanking fields and pathways that seemed to make it look bigger on the inside than it looked on the surface.

There were peacocks grazing sedately on the fields, some of them with feathers that seemed to be… on fire?

Both girls were startled when a man stepped out from seemingly nowhere on the other side of the gate, a face full of scars and the look of a hardened warrior glaring suspiciously down at them, quickly taking in their Circle robes and the staves they’d been provided by the college.

“Um, excuse me!” Titia spoke up first, her hands clutching her books tightly. “Is Magister Pavus in?”

The man crossed his arms. “Who’s asking?”

His voice was not as deep as Valentina expected from his size, but it was rough all the same, and had the accent of a Soporati low-born with strong tinges of something much more foreign.

“Altus Valentina Aemilius, at your service, ser, and my companion Betitia Arcanus, of the Minrathous Circle. We wished to speak to Magister Dorian Pavus for presentations of history,” Valentina said gracefully, and Betitia nodded one too many times, ruining the effect slightly.

The man raised an eyebrow skeptically, but seemed to weigh them as nothing of the threat he expected.

“Sure, okay. The Magister’s got visitors today, but you could probably catch him another time. Unless you’re willing to wait around while I see if he can’t spare you a minute, huh? Won’t be a proper sitting room invitation though.”

Valentina opened her mouth to protest, but Betitia ran her over quickly. “We can wait!” she said, near vibrating out of her skin.

Valentina sighed. The man nodded, looking amused, and walked off, giving the flaming peacocks and wide berth. “What do you even want to talk to him about?”

Titia brandished her notebook and pen like a sword and shield. “I was going to get his impressions on what Tevinter was like before the great reform. What he thought of the last great slave uprising. The way the southern Inquisition lent aid to Radonis, and then Maevaris, in quashing the Venatori threat. You know, Magister Pavus is rarely even in the city anymore, so when I heard he had arrived a few days ago, I’d thought to go, but…”

Valentina’s eyebrows raised. “You didn’t? Despite your passionate insistence that Magister Pavus was one of the greatest members of the Lucerni and was instrumental in the changes?”

Titia sighed. “I’m not exactly…. Good at talking to others. I was worried I’d humiliate myself. But then we were in the library and I just thought maybe you’d help me? I’m sorry, it must sound terrible, for me to use you like a shield just because I can’t hold polite conversation without tripping.”

Valentina laughed at that, head thrown back.

“You are the only reason I have not failed out of the Circle, my darling,” Valentina. “You and my ability to charm a snake out of its scales, but mostly you. You can use me for anything and it would barely make up for that.”

Titia smiled softly, and they looked at each other in charged silence for a moment before the gates suddenly creaked and swung inward, seemingly to allow them to pass through.

“Well,” Valentina said, straightening up. “Looks like we have an invitation.”

 


	2. The Minrathous Times Bestseller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dorian meets with young, impressionable mages. 
> 
> Also, Varric Tethras and his books become unexpected Tevinter bestsellers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

The city of Minrathous was one of the greatest in the world, and its most recent stumbling block (so the citizens liked to remember it, when in truth, it brought all of the capital to a standstill, so powerful was the driving force that was behind it) came in the form of the last great slave revolt of the city, which preceded the reforms placed on the city, put forth one by one by Magister Tilani, and delayed in discussion until said Magister was named heir to the Archon, and her fellows in the Magisterium, as well as her less fervid enemies, voted in favor of the laws she would eventually pass.

The call for blood was answered by remaining Venatori factions and slavers and slave-masters who were… displeased by the change. It was blood spilled readily at the hands of those who had reason and power, some of whom counted as friends of heroes in the south. Of the legendary men and women who worked with the new Magisterium to restore order, were the famous (infamous) Elvhen warrior known as Fenris, and members of the mercenary company The Bull’s Chargers, who, under the Inquisition banner, assisted the Lucerni in purging more unsavory elements in the capital.

It was a war, one that most chose not to remember as one. But even reform wasn’t bloodless, not when Tevinter’s history was already bloodied with the lives of slaves under unkind, power-hungry masters.

That was a decade past, now, and Magister Dorian Pavus wondered lightly what the Dorian from ten years ago would think, seeing him now. He would likely remark upon the grays in his hair in disdain, though the Dorian of today had been thoroughly convinced (in no small part because of Bull’s passionate words and… other words) that the beginnings of gray made him look regal and refined. The very picture of a powerful, wise Magister who had the ear of the Archon.

The Dorian of yesteryear might have been surprised to see that his hopes bore fruit. It was surprising. He really did think growing old would make him more jaded, more hopeless, and yet the new world he lived in that he didn’t dream would come so quickly made him feel so much more optimistic than he ever thought he’d be, living in the heart of Tevinter. A Magister, one of those who led Tevinter out of slavery, who was now sitting in talks with the Qun to end their long war.

The very picture of power and hope for those who wanted to see change in their country, as he, in his youth, always did.

This was the Magister the younger members of the Lucerni saw, their eyes bright and idealistic and full of patriotism. This was the same look Dorian got when he entered the room and found two girls, no older than twenty, Circle-provided staves at their sides as they looked at him, one with wide-eyed awe and the other hiding her awe behind a mask that was impressive for her age.

 “Lord Magister Pavus!” greeted the guileless one, jumping up and bowing clumsily. The other followed suit, albeit more sedate, more graceful, putting on the kind of show Dorian had gotten used to in politics and his mother’s many soirees after his appointment as Magister. “My name is Betitia Arcanus! Thank you for seeing us on such short notice! This is my classmate, Valentina Aemilius! We’d heard you were in the capital for the talks, and… well…”

Betitia looked down shyly, clutching her notebook so hard Dorian worried it would burst.

“I don’t suppose you want an autograph,” Dorian joked. The other, Valentina, rolled her eyes, though whether it was for his words or Betitia’s lack of them, he couldn’t be sure.

“What my dear friend is trying to say is that we’re doing a presentation for our Tevinter history course, and wanted to ask you of our role in the Reform Period, and your experiences with The Radiant Lady Archon Tilani. And I think she’ll burst before she’ll ask for your autograph, but if you give it to her, she may just burst into tears,” said Valentina, and Betitia spluttered, while Dorian looked on in bemusement.

“Well I was entertaining some friends in the dining room, but I suppose a few minutes of my time can be spared for the pursuit of knowledge by our best and brightest in the Circle,” said Dorian airily. “What would you like to know?”

“We wouldn’t want to impose,” Betitia began, and Dorian softened.

“Nonsense,” he said, waving his head. “Believe me, rudeness is nearly a prerequisite in dealing with Southerners, and the company I keep has been rather inundated with Southern barbarism of late. I’m afraid my guests are liable to destroy my dining room, but they will hardly notice my absence. So please, ask your questions, and I will answer as best I can.”

Betitia flourished her quill like a weapon, looking so eager that she seemed like she would burst out of her skin any second. She opened her mouth to speak when there was a gentle but solid knock on the door, and a deep voice rumbled from the other side.

“Should I let Aegeus know to set aside your meal, o great lord magister?”

Both girls looked startled at the call, but Dorian only shook his head when nobody emerged from the closed door, whoever was behind it content to wait for a response.

“Let sir Aclassi know that he doesn’t need to wait for me to retire for the day—I’m perfectly capable of cleaning up after myself,” Dorian said airily.

“That hasn’t worked the other twenty thousand times, Dorian. I’ll save you something,” was the response, before whomever it was that saw fit to have a conversation without ever revealing himself walked away.

By the time they came back to the conversation, Betitia seemed to have lost her resolve, folding in on herself like the shyest of children. Valentina looked like she wished to speak for her again, but hadn’t the first clue what she wanted to say, and so she instead allowed her eyes to drift down to the table between them—widening when she saw what was sitting with its cover up off to the side of it, as if thrown carelessly down by the one last reading it.

“Is that Passion and War?” Valentina said suddenly, covering her mouth as if to stifle the words that had already left it.

Magister Pavus looked down with disdain, as if the book’s very existence offended him. “Ah. So you’ve read it,” he said.

“Varric Tethras novels are all the rage right now,” Betitia said with the air of someone who was of the few who shared Dorian’s distaste. “It’s sometimes the only way you see people spend time in the libraries.”

“They’re not as terrible as you insist, amata,” Valentina said, shaking her head, her words holding the tone of an old argument.

“I couldn’t get past the first chapter! I swear it makes you stupider the longer you read it,” Betitia responded, quite suddenly fired up again, if only to reiterate an opinion clearly not shared by her partner.

“You say that about every book that gains popularity in the Circle!” Valentina said, sighing dramatically.

“Because they’re all over-dramatic, terribly-written, of suspect value, completely unrealistic SMUT,” Betitia said.

“Ah, yes. That about sums up most Varric Tethras works,” Dorian said, chuckling. Betitia turned to him, encouraged.

“You knew him, didn’t you?” Betitia asked.

“You did!?” Valentina squawked.

“You both worked together in the Southern Inquisition! Back when Corypheus exploded the temple,” Betitia continued, eyes shining with curiosity and mouth quick to repeat the knowledge she’d gleaned in her studies.

“Oh yes. Varric Tethras was—is—an honorable man, and a thorn in my side for many years,” Dorian said. “As good with his crossbow as he’s terrible with writing, but everyone still eats his terrible stories up to this day, so he must be doing something right. And for a love story between a Magister and a Qunari  warrior to gain popularity in Minrathous and the territories now, with the talks underway? It’s honestly the kind of miracle I didn’t think that absolute gadfly could manage.”

“It’s a _what!?_ ”

“I told you you needed to read past the first chapter,” Valentina said smugly.

 

* * *

 

 

Deshyr and Viscount of Kirkwall Varric Tethras’ best-selling novel, Hard In Hightown ,sold in Tevinter some years after the Exalted Council with their latest female Divine was called, that which shifted the role of the dread Inquisition into a guarding force with diplomatic power.

It was a moderate success, with many intrigued by its charming, if somewhat melodramatic look at Southern life and customs, and it gained popularity with many young people who could get their hands on it. It gained more notoriety among slaves, when more educated house slaves were able to procure copies that some would read aloud to the illiterate.

By some strange twist, likely put into practice by the early stirrings of rebellion, Hard In Hightown became the basis of a cipher developed by such literate slaves, allegedly supported and funded by Lucerni in a time where that could have easily been seen as treason as it was heroism.

Long before this became common knowledge, however, there were already bans being put in place in Circles and libraries, to ensure that such Southern corruption could not affect Tevinter’s bright and impressionable young minds—which meant, of course, that it exploded in popularity, the ban only serving to make it more forbidden, and therefore more desirable. Books changed hands in secret, and secret “clubs” were formed to discuss its story.

It even led to Varric Tethras’ other books gaining a demand in the capital, Swords and Shields in particular appealing to high society ladies who thought it utterly romantic an idea that a woman could be a Knight-Captain and hold a military rank of any capacity, let alone fall in love with a handsome, hairy brute of a man who she would save with her heroics.

Passion and War, however, came at a strangely opportune time, releasing in Tevinter at about the same time as it did in the South, and its explosion in popularity in the North was unprecedented. The cover bore a magister with the twirliest mustache and the sparkliest robes ever to grace the pages of a book on its leftmost middle, with an enormous Qunari with equally enormous horns taking up most of the top right of the page, the two of them looking at each other challengingly, though their faces seemed awfully close for an unsurprisingly hostile stare-down.

It was rare for any book to bear a Qunari character (in that any Qunari in Tevinter books were little more than cannon fodder to be overcome or defeated, or grunting brutes without wit or intelligence, but very many bulging muscles) on the cover, let alone one who appeared to be a named protagonist—inasmuch as any Qunari might have a name. It wasn’t long before the story of the honorable reformist magister Macarius, who went off to free slaves in the southern deserts and his enemy turned reluctant ally turned friend turned lover Ashkaari, became the talk of the city, with some crying obscenity and others aflutter with the romance presented by such a pair.

It didn’t take very long for Betitia to make the connection, about a week after her visit with the magister, once she actually sat down to read the damn thing all the way through.

“Oh maker, it’s them,” she muttered, flipping through her notes on the reform period like a madwoman. “It’s them!”


End file.
